


let our battles choose us

by homeward_bound (babylxxrry)



Category: Offline TV (Youtube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Mob, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, OTV&F ensemble make appearances, Protectiveness, i call it mafia with magic, the corpsekkuno is romantic but there's a lot of friendship dynamics with others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/homeward_bound
Summary: Corpse doesn’t notice Sykkuno has gone down until he shoots the last suit-and-tie motherfucker through the head and watches him drop to the bloodied floor.“Ugly-ass bitch,” Corpse scoffs, shooting the man one more time in the head as insurance. He kicks the man’s gun away from his body and quickly pats him down for any other weapons. There are none. Pathetic. “Hey, Sy, this fucker didn’t even have a backup.”There’s no response.[mafia with magic au, ft. the comfy cartel et al]
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 284
Collections: Corpsekkuno Fic Exchange: Holidays 2020 edition!





	let our battles choose us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minrengi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minrengi/gifts).



> hello !!!! this is a corpsekkuno holiday exchange gift for rengi!! :D
> 
> the setup here is loosely based on [the comfy cartel comic](https://twitter.com/stil_lindigo/status/1336110564808921091?s=20) by [stil_lindigo](https://twitter.com/stil_lindigo) and [sevvanto](https://twitter.com/Sevvanto). if you haven't read it, [this thread](https://twitter.com/stil_lindigo/status/1338203832719851520?s=20) is a great place to get the general sense of how the power structure is laid out. my main change here is that michael is also the resident cartel doctor. also, there's magic. because i feel like it. i don't follow the plot of the comic with this fic; i've just borrowed the cartel structure for it. 
> 
> absolutely read the comic if you haven't already -- it's FANTASTIC. 
> 
> i have not taken inspiration from any other fics or sources besides the comfy cartel comic linked above, so any other similarities are merely coincidence! 
> 
> since this is corpse pov, all names are from his pov (for instance, he calls Toast "the Capo" and Poki "Imane" in his head, so that's what they appear as in narration)
> 
> rengi, i hope you enjoy this haha, happy holidays!!
> 
> minor content warnings: discussions of blood and mild gore, universe-typical violence ft. guns, knives, and injuries, no major character death. brief discussion of perhaps unhealthy drug usage, but not expanded on.  
> rating is mature for the above and brief discussions about sex, but there is no explicit nsfw.

Corpse doesn’t notice Sykkuno has gone down until he shoots the last suit-and-tie motherfucker through the head and watches him drop to the bloodied floor. 

“Ugly-ass bitch,” Corpse scoffs, shooting the man one more time in the head as insurance. He kicks the man’s gun away from his body and quickly pats him down for any other weapons. There are none. Pathetic. “Hey, Sy, this fucker didn’t even have a backup.”

There’s no response, and Corpse turns to his right. Sykkuno should be there, flanking the side that Corpse’s bad eye is on. Only empty space greets him, and Corpse goes on alert instantly. There’s no way Sykkuno would have gotten sniped without Corpse hearing, right? 

“Sykkuno?” 

No response.

Corpse moves faster than his fight-tired body ought to be able to, shoes sticking to the bloody floor as he weaves between fallen bodies and stacks of bullet-ridden crates. It’s fine. He’ll clean them off before he returns to the house. 

Corpse hears Sykkuno’s breathing before he sees him. He rounds a tall stack of largely-undamaged crates to see Sykkuno sitting on the floor, leaning against a concrete pillar. 

“Sykkuno!” 

Sykkuno’s hands are pressed to his lower abdomen, his magic glowing green-blue against the dark, wet patch of what must be blood soaking through his clothes. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Corpse hisses through his teeth, his hands hovering over Sykkuno, unsure if he’s allowed to touch, if it’s even safe for him to touch. “What happened?” 

Sykkuno’s eyes are closed and his face is so, so white. His voice is calm, if not entirely stable, when he gives his report as concisely as he ever does for the higher-ups. “One of them wasn’t dead and I didn’t hear him quite in time. Hit me with something toxic, I think. I’m trying to keep it in this area so it can’t get anywhere lethal.”

Corpse’s hand flies to the comm in his ear. “Did you already radio in?”

Sykkuno give a small nod. “They’re on the way in with Michael. Maybe five minutes more.”

Corpse takes his finger off the comm and focuses all of his attention on Sykkuno, now that he knows backup has been called. “Can… Can I help at all?”

“Not unless you’ve suddenly become a wielder.” Sykkuno opens his eyes briefly and Corpse watches him struggle to pull a weak smile on his face. His pupils are blown out huge and his breathing is starting to speed up. “Nothing you can do to help right now. The bleeding is slowing down but I’m just trying to keep the toxin in place.”

“You’re going into shock,” Corpse points out, and Sykkuno nods, closing his eyes again.

“I’ve already gone into shock, Corpse, I’m just good at, ah—” Sykkuno inhales sharply. “I’m just good at hiding it. ‘S about to get bad, though. Sorry in advance for anything I, uh, say.”

Corpse digs his nails into the palms of his hands. Everything in him is screaming that he should be helping Sykkuno to apply pressure and keep as much blood in his body as possible, but he can’t. Sykkuno is trying to do _something_ to keep himself stable. He doesn’t need Corpse’s big, clumsy hands messing any of it up.

Corpse doesn’t know what to do, or what to say, so he stays crouched by Sykkuno, ears and peripheral vision on high alert for any remaining opponents. There shouldn’t be. He and Sykkuno cleared the warehouse when they first got here, rounding everyone up into this area. And all of them should be dead now, or so incapacitated they wish they were dead. 

It feels like years before he hears the cartel’s medical van rumbling down the street. The comm in his ear crackles to life. 

_Crackhead to Necro, we are at your location. Please bring Philia as fast as possible,_ without _jostling any major organs._

Sykkuno snorts, and Corpse looks down at him. “Hm?”

“Necrophilia. I can’t believe they did that.” Sykkuno opens his eyes a slit. They wander a bit before landing on Corpse. “It’s so stupid, but it’s kind of cute. Don’t tell Corpse I said that.”

Fuck. “Sy, you’re delirious. Come on. I’m taking you out.” Corpse scoops Sykkuno up in his arms, bridal style. Sykkuno is heavier than he looks, all long, lean muscle, but Corpse is more than capable of handling him. 

“Surprise me,” Sykkuno mumbles, his head lolling against Corpse’s shoulder. “Get it? Take me out, or _take me out_?”

“Yeah, Sy, I get it,” Corpse says, because only fucking Sykkuno would be trying to run a dad joke pickup line as he’s _dying_ of some unknown toxin. “I’ll take you out proper when you’re not dying, okay?”

“Chipotle,” Sykkuno agrees, and then he goes lax in Corpse’s arms and his hands stop glowing against his abdomen. _Fuck_. Okay. 

The route to the front of the building is so much longer than Corpse remembers it being. He’s still running on adrenaline, but he’s starting to be able to feel how overstrained his body is. He only got a few hours of sleep last night, as he’s wont to the night before anything big, but there had been so many more people there than Pokimane’s intel had suggested. It’s not her fault, of course; she can only do so much, but it might’ve been nice to have a couple more grunts with them, had they known. 

Corpse sees the van’s back door slide open the minute they emerge into the sun. No one leans out because it wouldn’t be safe to without knowing if there’s still surveillance in the area, but Corpse knows Michael will be crouched just inside the door.

He hands Sykkuno off, climbing into the back of the van and slamming the door shut as he explains as best as he can what Sykkuno was trying to do before he passed out. Michael nods along, already passing his hands, glowing pink, over Sykkuno’s abdomen.

Corpse sits against the wall of the van as the driver (Brodin, probably) accelerates. He watches Michael wrinkle his nose and reach over Sykkuno’s body to grab a syringe of… something. It glows faintly blue-green like Sykkuno’s magic, and Michael squints at the label before he injects it directly into Sykkuno’s abdomen. Corpse doesn’t quite like the feeling of not knowing what’s being done to his partner (and boyfriend! as of a few weeks ago! apparently! what the fuck, honestly!), but the last thing Michael needs is his hovering and questions. Michael knows more about all of them than he has any right to, including their various magics or lack thereof, and how to best treat each of them. Sykkuno is in good hands. 

Corpse still worries. Of course he does. But he’s very good at staying quiet, and he can’t do anything for Sykkuno now. 

He takes the moment to take stock of his own injuries. He might have pulled something in his right arm, but that’s fine. It’ll heal up quickly enough if he lets it rest. There are various cuts and scrapes on his hands and a bruise forming on his face where some asshole punched him with brass knuckles he’d clearly never used before. He doesn’t think anything’s broken, though, which is good because broken noses and cheekbones are incredibly annoying to heal. Besides that, his body is burning in a way that’s promising to leave him very sore tomorrow. Nothing too bad, compared to Sykkuno. 

“Prognosis?” Corpse asks.

Michael glances at him briefly. “He’ll live. I think it must’ve been a knife wound, maybe spelled, maybe not. The toxin’s pretty strong, but he got some of it out and he did a really good job of keeping it localized. He’ll have a hell of a hangover tomorrow from the anti-tox, but I knocked him out for the rest of the day since I have to stitch him up when we get back anyway. Do you know if anything else happened besides the knife wound?”

Corpse shakes his head. “Probably the usual cuts and scrapes, but that’s all he told me about.”

Michael nods. “Alright. Here.” He lobs a bottle at Corpse. Corpse recognizes it as the usual concoction Michael has him drink after big fights, and he downs it gratefully. It’s coffee-flavored, but Michael did something or other to it to make it pH-neutral, so it doesn’t bother his stomach or his esophagus. Corpse is once again struck with appreciation for Michael and his oddball ways. They’d all be dead without him—quite literally. 

Brodin pulls them up to the house sooner than Corpse expected. He wonders briefly how many traffic laws Brodin broke on the way, not that it’s anything that Lily wouldn’t be able to smooth over with a couple of well-placed phone calls. Michael slams the door open as soon as Brodin puts the van in park, and Corpse watches helplessly as Michael lifts Sykkuno easily and carts him off the basement. He wishes he could be there to watch over Sykkuno, but he knows better than to follow. As good as Michael is with tech and medicine, he has a very short temper and access to very many instruments capable of causing irreversible damage to anyone who dares encroach on his territory. Everyone, Don Scarra included, knows better than to go into the basement uninvited. Even Lilypichu, the exception to so much about Michael, is on incredibly thin ice in Michael’s basement. 

“Hey.” Brodin appears in the doorway of the van. “Corpse. Go get cleaned up, yeah? Your usual room is open, and there’s nothing you can do for him by worrying.”

Corpse nods wordlessly and climbs out of the van, gritting his teeth under the black mask when his cramping muscles cry out in protest. He doesn’t know if Brodin can see, and he hopes he can’t. Corpse can’t be showing weakness like this; it’s a death sentence in the field. 

“Do you need anything else? I can see if we have some of the stronger pain meds around still?”

Goddamn Brodin.

Corpse shakes his head. “I have my own stuff.” Which is true—it’s just that _his own stuff_ constitutes medications that were acquired in less-than-savory ways. Old habits die hard, and his people get him the very best.

“Alright. Rest up, you and Sykkuno did a lot today. The Capo expects reports as soon as you’re able.”

Corpse nods again, stepping into the house a second before he remembers that he has blood drying on the soles of his shoes. Fuck. Okay. 

Brodin makes a sound behind him and Corpse turns, expecting to be told off immediately. 

“Just go, Corpse. I’ll get one of the grunts to take care of it before anyone sees.” Brodin already has a hand on the innocent-looking leather cuff around his wrist. The panel inlaid in the black leather flashes to life when he taps it.

Corpse toes his shoes off and picks them up. They’re not dripping, at least. The staircases up to the second floor look immensely formidable, but there’s no elevator in the back, and he wouldn’t be allowed to the front of the house covered in blood and miscellaneous viscera. With a sigh, he picks up his aching legs and half-drags himself up to the second floor and its guest suites. He shoulders his way into his regular room, third door on the right, and sits down heavily on the bed.

The sheets are black, as always. It hides the blood better. 

He should strip and shower and take at least a couple of his pills, but he’s just so _tired_ —and so worried about Sykkuno. His boyfriend is somewhere in the basement, lying unconscious in one of Michael’s recovery beds. The urge to go down to Sykkuno and make sure he’s okay is still bothering him, but he _can’t_ because _he’s not allowed to_. 

Instead of breaking the stupid ugly vase on the nightstand for the fifth time (and why do they keep replacing it? It’s just going to keep being broken), Corpse pushes himself up onto his shaking legs. He sways in place for a moment before he strips out of his clothes, leaving them in the hamper by the door for the housekeeper to pick up and send to the dry cleaners.

He showers quickly, scrubbing blood from his hands and under his nails. He nibbles on a pack of Saltines from the cabinet that’s kept stocked for him in this room, locking the door to the hall and pressing electrical tape over the single camera mounted in the ceiling light. He doesn’t care, really, if they know what he’s up to, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend he’s not under cartel surveillance 24/7.

The pills he left in the hidden compartment under the snack cabinet are still there. He knows the others in the house know they’re here, but none of them would ever confront him about it, both because he’s too valuable to them and because they’ve all been in similar places. No one here is a hypocrite. 

He takes two, washed down with more of Michael’s coffee-esque concoction. The pills will kick in soon, which will help his poor body to stop fucking _hurting_. 

In the meantime, he opens the laptop waiting for him on the room’s desk and logs in (password, fingerprint, retina scan, voice print) to start writing up his report for the Capo. It takes something like half an hour to get down his version of the events. He sends it in along with the contents of the hard drives he managed to nab before the warehouse fight. He doubts there will be anything in there that Pokimane and the rest of the intelligence folks don’t already know, but it’s always good to get data confirmed or corrected. 

With that out of the way, Corpse’s thoughts turn, naturally, back to Sykkuno. Michael will probably send word once… _if_ he’s allowed to go see Sykkuno. But until then, Corpse has nothing to do but worry. He’s very good at it if he does say so himself. He could try to sleep if he wanted, but experience tells him he’ll end up more miserable staring into the darkness without Sykkuno by his side than if he just keeps himself awake.

The night passes slowly. Corpse wavers in and out of consciousness, sitting up against the headboard. He’s hyperaware of both the phone in his hand and the tablet set into the nightstand. They’ll vibrate or light up or both if anyone needs him, and he’ll be damned if he misses anything.

And yet, before he knows it, morning light is creeping around the edges of the curtains. They’re blackout curtains supposedly, but Corpse wasn’t exactly paying attention to how well they were closed last night. 

His body hurts all over as he expected, and when he stands up, his knees almost buckle again. He glances at the taped-over security camera, its little red light still blinking, valiantly transmitting a black feed to Pokimane’s monitors. It’s time for painkillers again. It might be time for painkillers for the entirety of the next two or three days depending on how shitty his body decides to be.

At 6:00am sharp, his phone buzzes with a message.

From Crackhead, 06:00: _Sykkuno’s about to wake up if you want to be here._

Corpse replies with a single thumbs up and slides his feet into the soft house slippers by the door. The walk down the back staircase to the basement isn’t excruciating per se, but only because it’s hard to describe anything as excruciating once you’ve kept yourself alive for four days with a sizable gash in your thigh and no painkillers or backup. Still, it's not particularly comfortable even by _his_ usual standards.

He hears voices from the basement as he approaches. The back door is open as he’d expected it to be, but he holds himself back. He can hear the Capo’s voice, and he’d rather not intrude if the Capo is talking to Michael or Sykkuno. 

“...toxin?” the Capo asks.

“Well, you see,” Michael starts, his voice drifting out of Corpse’s hearing as he moves around the room and presumably points out this or that. “I figured that…. they like to use this specific brand of… already had antidote prepared for…”

The Capo hums, and Corpse peeks around the doorframe as unobtrusively as he can. Is Sykkuno awake yet? 

“Who the fuck are you?” an unfamiliar feminine voice says, snapping Corpse out of his eavesdropping.

Moving on instinct, he pins the slight figure against the wall by its throat. He freezes when a very distinctly sharp blade prods him in the stomach. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Corpse says softly, partially because he doesn’t want to wake Sykkuno but also because he doesn’t want to anger this newcomer any more. They’re _highly_ trained, he can tell, and something about their voice or their actions or _something_ is bothering him. He should know who this person is. He has seen them before. He knows he has. But his stupid Swiss-cheese memory is failing him once again. 

“The Valkyrie,” the Capo’s voice comes from inside the basement, “and Corpse Husband. At each other’s throats already. I like it.”

 _The Valkyrie_. Sykkuno’s old partner, handler, co-worker, something or other. Corpse remembers lying awake with his head in Sykkuno’s lap, listening to Sykkuno talk about his life before the cartel while Sykkuno pet his hair like a cat. It might be one of his favorite moments in memory.

“Drop the knife, Valkyrie,” Corpse grits out, “and I’ll let you down.”

“Let me down, Corpse Husband,” Valkyrie replies, grin sharp and humorless, “and I’ll put the blade up.”

They stare at each other for a long, long moment until Corpse hears bedsheets shifting and Sykkuno make a little sound that means he’ll be awake soon. He lets Valkyrie down, and she sheaths her blade somewhere. 

Michael and the Capo are watching them with mild interest.

Corpse ignores them and goes to Sykkuno’s bedside. He wants to take Sykkuno’s hands in his own, but that’s not something he’s particularly ready to share with the stranger in the room. Toast and Michael know, of course, because they know everything that happens in the cartel, but Corpse has no idea how far the Valkyrie’s information reaches.

“Sy?” 

Sykkuno’s brow furrows for a moment and Corpse wants so desperately to kiss him on the forehead and wake him up gently. There have been too few mornings when they’ve had the time to wake up together. Corpse makes a resolution to change that once Sykkuno is healed enough for Michael to discharge him. 

“Corpse?” Sykkuno murmurs, his eyes fluttering open for the briefest of moments before he scrunches them shut against the light. “My head hurts _so bad_.”

“There’s the hangover,” Michael mutters from somewhere behind Corpse. “Sykkuno, it’ll get better with time. I can drug you up again, though, if you want.”

Sykkuno shakes his head slightly and winces when he seems to regret moving his head. “No. I’ll be okay.”

Corpse watches as Sykkuno reaches out blindly, feeling around on the sheets for something. Corpse pulls his hand out of reach, and the confused sound Sykkuno makes almost breaks his heart. 

“Sykkuno,” Valkyrie says, stepping forward with a glance at Corpse, “I heard you almost fucking died again.”

“Rae?” Sykkuno squints into the light again. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Can a girl not check on her old partner when he almost dies— _again?_ This is the second time this year, kotik. Why are you like this?”

Sykkuno sighs and makes a grumbling sound. “Did they even let you in?”

Valkyrie scoffs. “They knew I was coming.”

A glance at the Capo and Michael confirm that they did indeed know that the Valkyrie was coming but not when—and certainly not with their permission. 

“Doesn’t answer the question,” Sykkuno says quietly, but he seems relatively content without an answer.

Valkyrie stands by Sykkuno’s bed for another moment before she presses two of her fingers to her lips and taps Sykkuno’s temple with them. “I’m off, then. Be well, kotik. I’ll be around. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Rae.” Sykkuno smiles, and Corpse finds himself irrationally jealous of Valkyrie.

“Oh, and _him_?” Valkyrie nods in Corpse’s direction without looking at him. “I could take him down, no effort.” She turns to Corpse, meeting his eyes squarely with her own. “Treat him well, Corpse Husband, or else you’ll have more than just me to answer to.”

Corpse nods because what else is he supposed to do when he’s confronted with a shovel talk from his boyfriend’s old handler, who’s maybe a quarter of his size and could probably murder him with her left pinky? “Wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

“Good. Kotik, rest up.”

The Valkyrie turns and walks towards the door. “Disguised Toast. Michael Reeves.”

Corpse raises his eyebrows when he hears the Capo’s name spoken without his title, and he sees his surprise mirrored in Michael’s face. The Capo merely looks amused.

“Corpse,” Sykkuno says, and Corpse faces him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Sykkuno’s eyes shift to the Capo and Michael, who are still standing near the door.

“We’ll let you two talk,” the Capo says. “But Sykkuno, as soon as you’re able…”

“The report, I know.”

“There’s a call button if you need anything,” Michael adds before he follows the Capo out. The door swings shut behind them. The room isn’t perfectly secure, Corpse knows, because there are eyes and ears everywhere in the house, but nothing Sykkuno has to say here will be information he omits from the report. That’s just how Sykkuno is: honest and straightforward to a fault when it comes to intra-cartel business. He’s one of the smoothest and most ruthless liars in the field, but he says that it’s too much work to keep track of non-truths at home. Corpse could not be more opposite, but he supposes that’s why they make a good match. 

“I’m sorry for getting hit,” Sykkuno says after a moment of silence. His hand makes an aborted motion upwards and he grimaces. Corpse thinks he was going to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck, as he’s wont to do when he’s feeling guilty or nervous. “I left you to take care of the rest of them, and then you had to drag me out, and you were probably worried about me, and—”

“Sykkuno, baby,” Corpse cuts him off, sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes Sykkuno’s hands in his own just like he’s wanted to since he saw him this morning. “Baby, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault that asshole got the drop on you.”

Sykkuno’s mouth twists. “I’m usually better than that, though. I don’t know what happened yesterday.”

“It’s okay to have off days, Sy.” Corpse knows this better than anyone else. “We all have them. It’s okay, I promise.”

“How did it go? Did I mess everything up?” Sykkuno still looks so worried, gnawing at his lip. He’s _this_ close to breaking the skin, and Corpse wants to kiss him before he does. Or after. He doesn’t really care.

“It was fine. We had those couple of hard drives from the offices. I sent them to Poki this morning. There was nothing else to be had, Sy. Don’t worry. There was just the last guy to take care of, and that was it. You were perfect.”

Sykkuno huffs softly, a shadow of his normal laugh. “I wouldn’t say that, but thank you, I guess. You did all of the hard work there.”

“Let’s not start this now, okay? I’m just glad you’re alive.” Corpse cringes at the earnestness in his own voice. It’s so _vulnerable_ to be earnest like this, but Sykkuno brings it out of him, and everyone who ever sees the security footage of this room knows it. It’s okay. 

“I’m glad I’m alive, too.” Sykkuno flexes one of his hands and Corpse lets go. Sykkuno pauses. “Wait…”

“What’s wrong?” Corpse reaches out to take Sykkuno’s hands again, but this time, it’s Sykkuno’s turn to pull away.

“My magic. I can’t pull it up.” Sykkuno doesn’t look panicked exactly, but he doesn’t look calm either. He makes a few small motions with his hands, flicking his fingers, and nothing happens.

Corpse frowns. “Is it a side effect of the toxin?”

“I don’t know. It’s still there, I think, because I can feel it, but I can’t access it? I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Corpse doesn’t have any experience with magic. He could’ve had it, maybe, if he’d tried harder when he was young, but his childhood had called for much more… _hands-on_ abilities. Everyone knows it’s basically impossible to start cultivating magic once you’ve passed your early teens. It’s alright. He knows how to take care of himself and the people around him when he needs to. 

“Maybe you should ask Michael about it?” Corpse loathes the idea of losing any more time with Sykkuno in private, but Sykkuno’s magic is _very_ important to him and his work. 

Sykkuno seems equally reluctant to make any move towards the call button. 

Corpse sighs. He’ll be the responsible one here if he has to be. They’ll have more time together later, and the sooner Sykkuno figures out what’s going on, the sooner they’ll be able to spend uninterrupted time together. Corpse reaches over and presses the call button. Michael knocks no more than two seconds later.

“Come in,” Sykkuno calls, shooting Corpse a dirty look. Corpse blows him a kiss and watches the blush crawl up his cheeks. 

“Did I, uh, interrupt something here, boys?” Michael quips. “Do you need another minute?”

“No, no,” Corpse says before Sykkuno can say yes to Michael’s question. “Sykkuno had something to share.”

“Oh?”

“Sy, I’m going to go get you something to eat, alright?” Corpse says, though it’s not really a question. Michael will probably be poking and prodding at Sykkuno for a while. Corpse doesn’t really have an issue with it being done to himself, but he really hates seeing it being done to others.

Sykkuno nods. 

“Something easy to swallow,” Michael says, and then pauses. “Hmm.”

Corpse laughs. “Alright, Michael, calm down. Save it for Lily.”

“Hey, you keep her name out of your mouth, pal.”

Corpse holds up his hands. “Alright, buddy, I’m going now.”

The kitchen is quiet when Corpse pokes his head in the door. There’s a single person in the room, humming to herself as she makes coffee. 

“Imane,” Corpse says.

Imane whips around when she hears her name. “Oh! Good morning, Corpse.”

“Morning. How are you?”

She nods, turning back to her tea. “Alright, alright. I saw the report and the new data you sent in last night. I’m running it against our current files, and I should be hearing back from my people in the next couple of hours. The perks of having night owls on the team, you know. They’ll work through the night and come out no worse for wear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Corpse nods along. “Hey, what… what happened with the intel about the assignment yesterday? I thought we were told there would only be a couple goons.”

“Ah, yeah.” Imane stops and looks up at him. “Yeah, that was my fault. I was going off the most recent information we had about that particular spot, but someone didn’t get back to me about recent movement?”

“And you didn’t think to follow up on it?” Corpse doesn’t intend for his response to come off snappish, but this is _Sykkuno’s life_ at stake. His own, he doesn’t care quite as much for, but both Sykkuno’s skill set and Sykkuno himself are unparalleled and, quite frankly, deserve the very best.

Imane’s calm facade flickers into anger, but she tamps it down before Corpse can do more than notice it. “Corpse, I thought I could rely on my people. It was my mistake to assume that their lack of response was because there was no new information, and I apologize deeply.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“I’ll go see him tonight.”

Corpse nods tightly. 

There’s a moment of thick tension between them and Corpse is pretty sure both of them are holding their breaths.

Imane lets her breath out in a whoosh. “That person was...” She pauses. “...released, if you will. I should’ve double checked it myself. I’m really sorry I put you two in that position.”

It’s her version of an olive branch, Corpse is pretty sure. He accepts it, if only to avoid endangering his and Sykkuno’s lives by antagonizing a Capo. 

“Mn. Sometimes folks just… don’t do their jobs. It’s not your fault.” 

It _is_ , though, and Corpse knows Imane knows it because she’s the head of her department. If people aren’t performing, it’s her job to make sure they do so no one gets hurt. 

Imane sighs again, taking the out Corpse is offering. “How is he?”

“I think he’s okay. He’s trying to figure out some post-tox symptoms. Something about his magic.” Corpse digs around in the freezer to see if there’s any food to be heated up. There are many reasons he doesn’t live in the cartel house, and one of them is because half the time he’s too tired or just doesn’t have the willpower to make himself food. Most of the house members make their own to keep the number of delivery drivers to a minimum. Corpse thinks he would starve to death without ordering in at least five times a week. He can cook, kind of, but it requires so much energy and time and patience, most of which he’s short on on a good day. 

He resurfaces from the depths of the freezer to Imane asking him a question.

“You don’t have magic, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wield before.” 

Corpse shakes his head, even though he knows Imane knows he’s not a wielder. “No. You don’t either.” 

Truth be told, he doesn’t actually know if Imane has magic or not. It’s not a common topic of conversation in the house because it’s one of those things that if you know, you know, and if not, you don’t. He has a pretty solid guess, though, because he’s seen her work before and her processes are _exceedingly_ thorough in ways that wielders’ methods tend not to be. Of course, she could just be a particularly careful wielder, but somehow—Corpse thinks she’s like him.

“Nope. I wasn’t blessed with that shit, so I just have to be more careful with what I do.”

“Thought so.”

Imane rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Were you looking for something in here, or did you just stop by to say hello?”

“I was going to get food for Sy, but, um. I don’t actually know what you guys keep stocked anymore, and he needs something easy to swallow.”

Imane eyes him with a poorly-concealed snort of laughter. “Something easy to swallow, eh?”

“Shut _up_ , everyone’s made that joke already.”

“I said nothing, you were the one who jumped to conclusions.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“I think we have some applesauce cups in the pantry if you look behind the cans of beans. If not, we might have yogurt in the fridge, but someone might have eaten those already.” Imane gestures in the general direction of the pantry with the spoon she’s been stirring her tea with, flicking a droplet of tea onto the ground. She looks at it for a moment and sighs. “I didn’t sleep, like, all night last night. I was worried about Sykkuno.”

“You and me both, Imane,” Corpse says. “You and me both.”

Imane sips at her tea. “I hope he heals up quickly. You should go back to him, and I’ll go check on my people.”

It’s as clear a dismissal as any. Corpse does indeed find the applesauce and yogurt where Imane said they'd be and bids her goodbye before he retreats to the basement. 

Sykkuno and Michael are talking quietly about something when Corpse gets to Sykkuno’s room, so he knocks on the doorframe before he goes in. 

“I brought applesauce and yogurt.” Corpse places both on the table by the bed and realizes he forgot spoons. Goddamnit. 

“I have spoons,” Michael says when he notices the predicament. He disappears into another room and returns with a pair of plastic spoons. “You owe me. No exertion allowed for the patient.”

He leaves the room again and closes the door behind him, leaving Corpse and Sykkuno alone. 

“Did he just…” Corpse starts, a smile threatening his mouth. 

“Insinuate that we’d, uh, yknow, here? While I have a knife gash in my stomach? Apparently so.” Sykkuno _has_ to be on some kind of strong painkiller. There’s no way he’s this flippant about everything unless he’s at least a little high. 

“Did you figure out what was going on with your magic?” Corpse changes the subject to something a little tamer. He wouldn’t do anything with Sykkuno here and now, but he’s a man with needs and he’d prefer if he didn’t have to go jack off in the bathroom after their conversation.

“Not really. We’re going to give it some time to see if it's just all of the meds in me right now combining oddly and messing with my body. None of them should have issues individually, but Michael says he hasn’t had a chance to try them all in combination until now.”

Corpse nods. “Makes sense. And you’re certain you still, like, have it, right? You just can’t access it?”

“Yeah. It’s still here, I can still feel it.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. 

“You should eat something.” Corpse nudges one of the applesauce cups towards Sykkuno. 

“Thanks for bringing things down for me. Aren’t you sore from yesterday?”

“Mhm. But it’s you. I’d do anything for you, you know?”

“Oh my god, Corpse, you can’t just say things like that.” Sykkuno’s smiling, though, and Corpse finally lets himself lean in. 

“Yeah, I can. Boyfriend privileges.” He kisses Sykkuno, chaste and sweet, and rests their foreheads together. “You need to get well soon. I miss being around you already.”

“I will, Corpse, I promise.”

They sit together quietly for a little while longer until Michael comes by to give Sykkuno his next round of medication. He kicks Corpse out so Sykkuno can sleep for a few hours, and Corpse wanders his way back upstairs to his room. 

The clothes in the hamper and the shoes have both been taken to be cleaned, but nothing else has been moved. Good. 

Corpse has another pack of crackers and more painkillers. He doesn’t have anything to distract himself from the state of his body now, and unless someone contacts him with a solo assignment, he has nothing to do for the rest of the day. He might as well try to nap because sleep should theoretically help him to heal. He remembers Sykkuno mentioning that having magic can help repair wielders’ bodies faster than non-wielders. Is Sykkuno’s magic still healing his body even though he can’t access it? It would make sense, wouldn’t it, for the magic to be functional without him consciously controlling it? But what if the toxin affected Sykkuno’s magic itself and not just his contact with it? Would it do permanent damage to Sykkuno’s abilities or, worse, to him overall? 

Corpse shakes himself out of the spiral his thoughts are threatening to fall down. His baseless worrying does no one any good. Sykkuno is in good hands with Michael, and he’s incredibly strong. He’ll be fine. He has to be. 

Some time later, a soft knock wakes Corpse out of his doze. The day has progressed quite significantly if the afternoon light streaming through the window is any indication. So he did sleep—and uninterrupted, no less. Amazing.

“Come in,” he says, sitting up and running his hands through his hair as if it’ll do anything to fix it. 

“Afternoon,” Lilypichu says, entering the room. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Capo.” Corpse bobs his head in respect. It’s a force of habit more than anything.

“You know you can just call me Lily. I’ve told you that before.”

“Lily.” Corpse bobs his head again and Lily nods approvingly. 

“How are you holding up?” Lily perches on the edge of the desk, legs crossed primly in front of her. “Personally, and also with Sykkuno.”

Corpse shrugs. “My body is kind of dying, but…” He angles his head towards his cabinet. “Y’know. Nothing that isn’t manageable.” She’ll understand. It’s the beautiful thing about Lilypichu. She always knows, and she never asks. 

“You should let Michael do a full check sometime. He might be able to whip something up that’s a little safer for regular consumption.”

Corpse hums noncommittally. “Maybe, maybe.” He won’t lie: the concept of switching up what he puts in his body after so many years of meds that he knows work now—even if they'll kill him in the long run—is scary. But these days, the long run is starting to feel more important. More real, if you will, like there might actually _be_ a long run for him. 

“And how are things with Sykkuno?”

“Right now?”

“Both. In general and right now.” 

“In general we’ve been good,” Corpse says slowly, gathering his thoughts. “I think we’re figuring things out. It takes a while, you know? Especially since we danced around each other for so long.”

Lily laughs quietly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“We managed to get here, at least. It could’ve been worse.” Corpse doesn’t like dwelling on other timelines where they aren’t already together, but it would be a lie to say he hasn’t done it quite a bit. 

“You did. I’m happy for you.” Lily sounds genuinely pleased. “You’re very good for each other.”

Corpse doesn’t bother hiding his smile. “Thanks, Lily.”

Lily slides off the desk and smooths the back of her skirt down. “That was it.” A little nod. “I just wanted to check in with you. Michael’s been keeping me updated on Sykkuno’s condition. He said that Sykkuno might be able to move back to his own room tonight, since his magic is doing a pretty good job healing him up. I know you don’t like staying here that much, but….” The _tonight you might want to_ goes unspoken.

Corpse hums. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“We’re having burgers for dinner, just so you’re aware. The Don has recipes he wants to try out.” Lily winks before letting herself out of the room. “I’ll see you at 7:30.”

And, well. Don Scarra’s cooking is legendary. Corpse would probably have stayed anyway to watch over Sykkuno, but the promise of a good meal he doesn’t have to order or prepare himself just clinches the deal. 

\--

Dinner is good, if a little bit awkward. The burgers are top-notch, as Corpse was expecting, but the ease with which conversation flows around him makes him feel increasingly out of place. He hadn’t realized how much Sykkuno did to make him feel included in table talk. Now, with a notable lack of Sykkuno by his right hand and the other occupants of the house clamoring to talk about this neighborhood mishap or that kitchen accident, Corpse can practically feel himself withdrawing inwards. It’s not that they’re going out of their way to exclude him—he’s just not involved in the daily ebbs and flows of the house. That camaraderie isn’t something Corpse needs or even particularly wants most of the time, but moments like these make him realize just how alone he is.

He misses Sykkuno’s smile. He misses Sykkuno cracking awful jokes. He misses laughing at Sykkuno’s awful jokes. He misses Sykkuno.

Corpse excuses himself quietly from the table and brings his dishes to the kitchen. 

As he emerges into the silent main hall, he has two choices. He can take the front elevator down, or he can go around to the back stairs. 

He chooses the stairs. His body is hurting a little less, and this way he can control how he arrives. The elevator doesn’t ding or anything, but Corpse trusts his ability to move silently more than that of the elevator. There’s nothing to worry about in the house, really, but he can count the number of times he’s chosen an elevator over stairs on his ten fingers and he doesn’t intend to add to it. 

The basement is dimly lit but for the sliver of light coming from Sykkuno’s propped door. 

Corpse knocks. “Sy? It’s me.”

“Oh, Corpse! Come in.”

Sykkuno has the TV on when Corpse comes in, but he mutes the volume when Corpse shuts the door. 

“How are you feeling?” Corpse sits on the chair that’s been left by the bed. 

Sykkuno reaches out his hands and Corpse enfolds them in his own. “I’m feeling okay, actually. Michael still has me on painkillers, but I think things are getting better.”

“And the magic?”

Sykkuno shakes his head. “Still can’t access it. We know it’s healing the wound, though.”

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

Corpse squeezes Sykkuno’s hands. “Are you worried about it?”

“What? No,” Sykkuno says too quickly. 

Corpse eyes him, and Sykkuno sighs. 

“Of course I’m worried about it. It’s, what, twenty-some years of cultivation wasted if I have to relearn it all?”

“It wouldn’t be wasted, though. Wouldn’t you just be able to pick up where you left off?”

Sykkuno shrugs, his lips pressed together. “I don’t know. It really depends on if anything happened to it. If it was altered by the toxin or the meds or whatever, I might have to relearn things from the beginning. Obviously, that’s a worst case scenario, but it’s still possible.”

“I’m sorry, Sy,” Corpse says, raising Sykkuno’s hands to plant a kiss on his knuckles. He doesn’t know what else to say. What exactly do you say to someone who might have been forced back to the equivalent of a grade-schooler’s abilities by a freak accident?

“Corpse,” Sykkuno says, the smile audible in his voice. “You’re really sweet. Did you know that?”

Corpse can feel himself blushing, but he forces himself to look at Sykkuno’s face instead of ducking his head. Sykkuno is staring at him in what can only be described as adoration. Corpse’s face has never been this hot in his life. 

“Uno reverse,” is the only coherent thing that Corpse can bring to mind. Even then, he stutters when he says it. God fucking damnnit. 

The embarrassment is well made up for by Sykkuno’s beautiful, beautiful laugh. Corpse fucking loves Sykkuno’s laugh. 

“Doesn’t that hurt your stomach?” 

“No.” Sykkuno shakes his head. “Painkillers, remember? And I’ve also healed a bunch since this morning.”

“Still. It’s probably not that good for it.” Corpse knows the dangers of overexertion on painkillers. It’s far too easy to pull something or tear out stitches or otherwise reinjure healing wounds. 

“Oh, come on, Corpse,” Sykkuno wheedles. “You trust that I know my body, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“So trust me when I say that it’s okay. Something about laughter being the best medicine, right?”

“Oh my god,” Corpse sighs. “Yeah, yeah, okay, Sykkuno. Laughter is the best medicine and all of that. Thank you for laughing at my stupid… joke?”

“I’ll always laugh at your jokes, Corpse.” Sykkuno looks so fucking earnest that Corpse can’t stop himself from standing and cupping Sykkuno’s face in his hands. Sykkuno’s eyes aren’t sparkling exactly, but his whole expression is so very full of love laid out bare for Corpse to see.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Please.”

Corpse leans in and closes his lips over Sykkuno’s. It’s not perfect by any means because Corpse has to lean down a little too far and the angle is weird and Corpse probably still has burger flavor lingering in his mouth, but it’s _them_ and that's all Corpse can ask for right now. 

-fin. (?)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been converted for free using [AOYeet!](https://aoyeet.space)
> 
> ___________________________________________________________________________
> 
> i hope you enjoyed ! comments and kudos make my day. 
> 
> massive thanks to my lovely lovely beta. bats, you're a lifesaver (the gummy kind). love u <3  
> also thanks to molly for hosting the exchange and being so very patient with me and my inability to meet deadlines properly (yikes). you're the most lovely <3  
> shoutout to the corpsekkuno writers discord, yall are great, and idk what i would have done here without sprints (s/o to my sprinting pals, yall know who u are <3)
> 
> i may write more for this universe someday, but please understand that my muse is very flighty and frequently does not do what i expect her to. 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/sykkrophilia)


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